


Sygerrik

by Currer_Bell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Don't worry it's not that bad, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Independent North, King Ned Stark, Post - Red Wedding, Queen in the North, Red Wedding, Robb Stark is King in the North, The King in The North
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-10 05:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17420168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Currer_Bell/pseuds/Currer_Bell
Summary: Four years ago, you could have asked anyone in the Winter Kingdoms about whether or not prince Jon was capable of causing a scandal, and the answer would have been negative. He was a polite, well-mannered boy at the age of fourteen; Arya remembered him smiling shyly whenever he was complimented, remembered his sharp gasp as he first gazed upon the lovely face of his intended, remembered how he used to muss her hair.She remembered the day everything had suddenly changed. She'd been too young to know what had happened; in fact, nobody knew the exact events that had led Jon to leave Winterfell in the middle of a winter's night four years ago."He's left," father had said.On hold





	1. Explanations (not a part of the story)

 

Here I explain how my northern kingdom works fine without help from the south. If you think political issues or geographic information are boring, skip this part!

 

***

 

In canon, the north is a barren frozen wasteland that depends on the other kingdoms for food and supplies during winter, and even in the summer it doesn't produce that much crops. 

The regions known as Brandon's gift and the new gift are property of the night's watch. The watch hasn't been able to look after the new gift, so it's almost empty of people, or strong holdfasts or farms. 

 

In this story, Brandon's gift still belongs to the NW, but the New Gift is property of the northern crown. The sovereign chooses the lord of the land, and can replace him whenever they want. Although in winter it's too far north and gets the hardest of the storms, in the summer those lands are full of farms and glass gardens on hot springs.

 

Also I've changed the North's geography a bit. There are many coal mines in the southern lands around Winterfell, and in the barrowlands and a few near White Harbour. It keeps the fires burning all through winter!

 

The North exports a lot of steel and timber to Essos through White Harbour and Braavos. They have good economic relations with the Braavosi. ( Braavos is actually much closer to the North than the rest of Westeros. )

 

Most Cailin was rebuilt a few decades ago.

 

After the last dragons died, the northern lords thought, "We knelt to the dragons, they're all dead." So they declared independence. A few attempts were made in order to conquer the north, but the southern armies couldn't enter through the Neck. When they tried to enter from the way of the sea, they lost too many men to the winter. They were pathetically defeated and never tried to get the north back, especially since they've rebuilt their navy.

 

***

 

Anyway, I just like the idea of independent North, so if this sort of explanations doesn't convince you, feel free to consider this a self-indulgent story!


	2. The News From Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya thinks about the past  
> Arya and Lord Too-Fat-To-Sit-A-Horse talk

Four years ago, you could have asked anyone in the Winter Kingdom about whether or not prince Jon was capable of causing a scandal, and the answer would have been negative. He was a polite, well-mannered boy at the age of fourteen; Arya remembered him smiling shyly whenever he was complimented, remembered his sharp gasp as he first gazed upon the lovely face of his intended, remembered how he used to muss her hair. 

 

She remembered the day everything had suddenly changed. She'd been too young to know what had happened; in fact, nobody knew the exact events that had led Jon to leave Winterfell in the middle of a winter's night four years ago. 

 

"He's left," Father had said. It ought to be strange how Arya could remember exactly how he looked and sounded at that moment. His face had been paler than usual, and the warm golden light of the candle on Jon's bedside table had done nothing to remedy it. 

 

He'd sounded solemn, as if he was sentencing somebody to lifelong imprisonment, and grieving, as if he'd received the news of a loved one's death. _And maybe he knew we'd never hear of him again... Maybe he was the only one who truly knew how stubborn Jon could be..._

 

"What do you mean?" Rodrik had been shocked and disbelieving and vulnerable in a way Arya had never seen him look like. Rodrik was an arrogant boy, while he lived, anyway. _The dead aren't arrogant; they're gone and lost and put aside._

 

"Well done, nephew," Father had responded coldly. He knew it was Rodrik's fault, yet that was the only time he ever mentioned it. _Father, Rodrik, Jon, Robb, Alyssa and probably Mother..._ Arya still sometimes counted in her head, but Alyssa had killed herself a moon later, and Jon was gone, and father wouldn't speak, and now Rodrik was also dead.

She remembered Rodrik's face, long and pale and handsome, and those blueish grey eyes that smiled. She remembered the ancient crown of bronze-and-iron on his head, and how it always seemed to be too heavy for him. 

 

She remembered that bruise on his face, like a purple stain on clean parchment.

 

Lady Alyssa Forrester had been Jon's intended. Arya had a vague memory of her; big brown eyes, a sparkly green dress that whirled around her legs as she danced, and the elegant shape of her long neck as she curtsied. Jon had been completely besotted with her. 

 

"He dishonored the girl," she'd heard a few days after Alyssa's suicide. "She was with child, and when she heard that the prince had left, with no care for her or the babe he'd sired on her, she threw herself into the sea."

 

Everyone had heard how Alyssa was heavy with child, and they assumed that it was her betrothed's babe; Jon was in love with the girl, and they thought he couldn't wait until their wedding night to claim her. It didn't matter much, of course, they'd just have to get married before the child was born, but then Jon had suddenly disappeared, and a month later, Alyssa drowned herself.

 

Lord Forrester had come to Winterfell to demand a duel with Jon. "How dare he dishonor my precious daughter and then leave her as if she was nothing but a tavern wench?" he'd shouted for everyone to hear. Arya remembered how close Lord Forrester had come to killing her own father in Jon's stead. Sansa had started to cry prettily as she was reminded of the tragic fate of her friend. Rodrik had looked guilty, just a little bit, but he'd looked guilty. King Rodrik Stark hardly ever felt guilty. 

 

"My lord father is expecting you in his solar, my princess." The nervous voice of Lord Manderly's son brought Arya back to the present.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"I will not pretend I was overly fond of King Rodrik, but he was my liege, and while he wasn't the best king he could be, he was a true Northman," Lord Manderly told her. She wasn't surprised that the man still resented him; it wasn't even two years ago that Rodrik publicly refused marrying into House Manderly. Arya's cousin wasn't a discreet man when he was drunk. And Wynafryd had always been Lord Wyman's favorite.

 

King Rodrik had died in a hunting accident a sennight ago. A stray arrow between his shoulder blades had made the direwolves look up to the sky and howl. 

 

Arya still couldn't believe it. She'd read the letter from her mother, and the official letter her father had sent Lord Manderly, but the thought of a dead Rodrik was so incredibly unimaginable. 

 

He was too lively for death. Rodrik was laughter and vigor and passion. Rodrik was snowball fights in the godswood and the first taste of sweet summer wine on Arya's tongue. 

 

"He was." She tried not to sound like she was on the verge of tears. Crying was something Sansa did, and she did it beautifully. Arya wasn't supposed to cry like a fragile little lady; Arya wasn't her sister. 

 

"We'll be leaving as soon as possible."

 

"I thought I would ride ahead of the main party, my lord." Arya didn't plan on delaying her arrival to Winterfell just because Lord Too-Fat-To-Sit-A-Horse would be carried in a litter. 

 

Lord Wyman chuckled. "I understand you prefer speed. You ride as fast as the wind, they say."

 

"Roose Bolton said I'm a centaur once," Arya said proudly. Lord Bolton hardly ever complimented anybody. 

 

The Warden of the White Knife smiled. "But my princess, you must promise me something," he said, suddenly serious. "You cannot ride ahead of the column-"

 

"The column? I thought I would ride ahead of the main party, my lord," she repeated. 

 

"Of course you will, but surely you did not think I'd let you ride all the way there by yourself? At least twenty men will ride along with you for your personal guard."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be patient with this story. I will not update very often because I want to write most of it before I start posting regularly, and also because I'm in the most important stage of my education and need to study like eight hours everyday AT LEAST! 
> 
> Tell me what you think!


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